The arrival of Lady Brinsley's poor dear Mr. Smith, the vicar, was the
next mild event of the day, and as his head too was filled with coals
and blankets, the story of the abominable coal-dealer had again to be
listened to and lamented over.
"The very worst coals I ever saw in my life, positively, are they not,
Lady Brinsley?"
"Eh, yes, Mr. Smith, quite too shocking. Nothing but dust, Duchess,
positively."
"We are all dust," returned the Duchess, who was whispering to Joyselle
about the Grand Duchess Anastasia-Katherine, _dans le temps_. "Oh, no,
we are all worms, aren't we?"
"Positively, I _never_ saw such very inferior coals," went on the Vicar,
wondering what on earth she was talking about.
Brigit looked at him as he babbled on. He was a very thin man, who
always reminded her of a plucked bird. Soon he would ask her why he had
not had the pleasure of seeing her in church for so long. He would hope
that she had not had a cold.
He did both these things, poor man, for it was his _role_ in life always
to say and do the perniciously obvious.
It was a very trying hour, but at last, under the dutiful pretext of
going to look after her mother, Brigit escaped and flew to Tommy's room.
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